


Horns and the hunt

by randomisedmongoose



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Drinking, Fertility Rites, Multi, Orgies, Sex, Violence, and horned forest deities, but also a bit of character, which means
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 11:02:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15580536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomisedmongoose/pseuds/randomisedmongoose
Summary: Vex finds out that there is one other duty in being the Mistress of the Grey Hunt, one that makes her even more nervous than the first. (AKA the Whitestone has Midsummer fertility rites fic!)





	Horns and the hunt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inheritanceofgeek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inheritanceofgeek/gifts).



> This story takes place during the one year timeskip. Many thanks to inheritanceofgeek that gave me the idea. This one’s yours ^^

“Vex, dear?”

It was the tone of his voice that made Vex take special notice. It was unsure in a way that was very uncharacteristic of Percival (a man that usually went through life being very sure indeed of basically everything). She put the arrow she was fletching down on the table and looked at him.

“What is it, darling?”                             

Percy rubbed the back of his neck and looked off to the side, not meeting her gaze. “We, uh, we need to talk about… a thing.”

“A thing.” She raised an eyebrow quizzically.

“Yes. Um. This is a bit, ehrm, this is a bit…” Percy faltered and huffed. He started again, stopped, and looked… embarrassed? Vex was getting really curious now. Percy took a deep breath.

“Lookthisisaboutsexallright?”

Vex chuckled and stood up, sidling up to Percy. “Sex, darling? Right now? I thought you got enough last night.“ She fingered his ascot and watched him splutter.

“No, I mean- not you and me, or, yes, it might be you and me, I guess, one would assume that- that is-“

Vex cocked her head to one side, confused. The subject was usually not one that bothered him this much. “Percival, what is this all about? I haven’t seen you this flustered in a long time.”

Percy took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “It’s a... flustering subject, to be sure. And, to be fair… we haven’t done this since the last Master of the Grey Hunt completely mucked it up when I was a child. We’ve had to relearn this part of it as well, Cassandra and I, and I’ll tell you, it’s been _very_ embarrassing to have to go around and try to find elders that one, are not dead via vampire, and two, are willing to talk to us- I had to talk to _Archibald_ , gods, that was embarrassing-“

She grabbed his face between her hands. “Darling. You’re rambling. Let’s sit down and have a drink, and you can tell me about it.”

She led him to the other armchair beside the table she’d been working at and poured another glass of the chilled dry white. She handed it to Percy, then topped off her own and sipped on it. Percy took an unceremonious swig of the fine vintage and put the glass down. He looked a tad more resolute, and finally met her gaze.

“So. You completed the Grey Hunt, yes?”

She made a confused half-shrug. “Apparently?”

“Yes. Only you didn’t. Not… entirely. There is another part to it.”

Vex sighed. “Are you ever planning to tell me about Whitestone all in one go, Percy?” she said, irritated. “Or do you get some sort of kick out of drawing it out?”

Percy flinched. “I’m… I’m sorry, dear. I don’t mean to, it’s just that these things… it’s like poking at a healing wound.”

She sighed, put her glass down and rubbed her eyes. She did love him, but sometimes his hangups were harder to navigate than a maze full of doors.

“All right, we’ll talk about that bit later. Now, what’s this other part of the Grey Hunt?”

Percy rallied. “Right, yes. Well, as you know, Pelor has a special relationship with Whitestone. And as you know, he’s the god of agriculture, the sun, the fields, growing things… all that. The largest celebration in Pelor’s honour is in midsummer, at the summer solstice. For most places, it’s a basically a gigantic farmer’s market, with a heaping of marriages thrown in. It’s not as big a celebration as Winter’s Crest, by any means.”

Vex looked at him with a combination of amusement and exasperation. Apparently, he needed to lead up to whatever he was going to tell her – whatever this was, it truly had him frazzled. Percy made a vague gesture, as if trying to encompass the entirety of the castle, the town and its surroundings.

“In Whitestone, we do things… differently. We are far enough north that in midsummer, just that night, the sun doesn’t set. And that makes things… special.”

Vex raised an eyebrow and looked at him, her adventurer’s instincts stirring. “Special.”

“During the day, there is a celebration, to be sure, there are marriages. But under the midnight sun, the hunt continues.”

“The Grey Hunt?” He nodded. “And I would have to take part in that?”

“Being the Mistress, yes.”

“And what is it I have to hunt?”

“An animal. Among other things. Or maybe it’s just one thing. The accounts differ and are in all seriousness very muddled.” He looked apologetically at her.

Vex shook her head, trying to make sense of the vague description. “Darling, I’m confused. How come you didn’t tell me about this when you told me about the other part? Why don’t you know what I’m supposed to do? And also, you said that this was about sex, and now you’re saying that it’s about a hunt? I do hope you’re not implying that I need to fuck a Grey Render!” She laughed.

Percy didn’t join in – instead, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat and looked at his wineglass, which suddenly seemed very interesting. Her laughter faltered.

“You can’t be serious!”

He flinched again and threw his hands up. “I- I don’t know, Vex! The accounts are so confused! You will need to hunt something, and you will probably need to fuck something, or someone, but those things might not be related-“

“They better not be! There is no way I’m doing that, that’s horrible! I don’t care about your traditions, I’m not going to go fuck a, a, _boar_ or something just because it says so in an old book!”

Percy sighed deeply and dragged his hands through his white hair. “I’ve really messed this up, haven’t I? I’m sorry, dear. I’ve, I’ve been _very_ nervous about talking to you about this. Maybe I should have, uh, rehearsed a bit first.”

“Maybe you should have!” She sighed angrily and dragged a hand down her face. “Look, you- you said you talked to Archibald? Does he know more? Gods know he can’t be more confusing than you!”

Percy looked relieved. “Yes, yes, that’s- that’s a good idea. Archibald and Cass. Let’s go find them, right now.” He rose and offered his hand. She pointedly refused it and instead gathered up her fletching supplies before marching off towards Cassandra’s office.

 

************

 

Cassandra gave her brother a sour look. “So he finally came around to talking to you about it? That took you a long enough time, Percival.”

Percy looked a bit sheepish. “Well, you know I thought it was better she heard it from me. But I guess that I, uh, that I procrastinated a bit.”

Cassandra sighed and exchanged a look of mutual suffering with Archibald Desnay. The old chancellor had luckily been in conversation with Cassandra, saving Vex and Percy some good long moments of searching the castle for him.

Vex put her arrows down on Cassandra’s desk with a thud, making the other three turn to her. “Look, I need some answers about this. Percival’s just been rambling at me. Please tell me you two will make more sense?”

She sat down in the only other chair, leaving Percy to lounge awkwardly against the mantlepiece. Archibald exchanged a quick glance with Cassandra, who nodded. He tapped his fingertips together.

“Gladly. Simply put: at the midsummer festival, during the shortest night of the year, the Master or Mistress of the Grey Hunt have to hunt a beast. However, this time, the purpose is not to kill it. Instead, it has to be _mastered_. That is the _what_. The _why_ and _how_ …”

He stopped and put his fingertips to his lips, looking for the right words. “This beast is… in a way, I suppose, it is the forest itself. A personification, an anthropomorphisation, if you will, of the lands that surrounds this town. A _genius loci_. Not unlike how an avatar of a god is unto the god itself.”

Vex’s brows furrowed. “And I’m supposed to hunt that? That sounds a bit… counterintuitive, actually. Shouldn’t somebody go and, well, parlay with it?”

Percy threw is hands up. “That was my reaction, too! But, look, it’s… an old thing. Old traditions, old… magic, I suppose.” He made a grimace. ”They say it’s part of what keeps Whitestone safe. And the safety of this town has always been the realm of the ruling family and the Grey Hunter.“

Archibald looked at Vex over his steepled fingers. “These are wild lands, Lady Vex’ahlia. They cannot be parlayed with. Whitestone stands because it stakes a claim, and that claim must be upheld – by force, or otherwise. Since the last Master was so unfit for the task, these rituals weren’t upheld correctly. And, in a way, it weakened the city. Not the people, but the city itself, its roots. The... defences… are not as strong as they once were.” He sighed. “If they had been, it’s possible that the Briarwoods would not have been able to take over so easily.”

Vex could see Cassandra stiffen in her seat. Archibald put a gnarled hand over hers.

“There’s no blame on you, Cassandra. You and Percival were children. If blame is to be put anywhere, it would rest squarely at the feet of us old people; your father, your mother, me, the others that were in charge back then. We should have made sure that the Hunt was in better hands.” He patted her shoulder and let his hands fall into his lap. “But we forget the importance of things, sometimes. Life gets in the way.”

Vex shifted uncomfortably. “So is it true that… that I have to, uh…” She glanced at Archibald.

“Is what true?”

She felt the blush creeping up her neck. “That I have to, um, have… sex with it.”

Cassandra sighed. “The accounts say that you have to _defeat_ it, Vex. Subdue it. Calm it, however you choose to do that. The _how_ , as Archibald puts it. The festival… that will most probably involve a lot of carnal activities, yes. It is a celebration of life and fertility, after all – and it’s been a long time since the last one. I remember some of it – I was a child the last time it happened, so obviously I didn’t partake, but there were always stories. Also, Archibald and many of the older survivors have told us what they know. But that doesn’t mean you _have_ to, um, to involve that sort of thing in the actual hunt. It’s just-“ She took a deep breath, colour rising on her cheeks as well. “It’s just that most accounts tell us that that is what happens. I’ve never been the Hunter, I have no idea why that is.”

Vex sat back in her chair and rubbed her eyes. “Ugh, gods, I can’t believe we’re talking about this. So no sex – sorry, probably no sex? – just a hunt, and I need to defeat it, not kill it?”

Percy and Cassandra looked at Archibald, who nodded, obviously struggling to keep a straight face. “No sex. Unless you, for some reason, choose it.” He cleared his throat. “Not during the hunt, anyway. The festival will… go as it will.” There was a twinkle in the old man’s eye that made Vex chuckle, despite her nervousness.

She rose and gathered up her supplies again. “Look, I need to think this over, alright? We have time, yeah? I have some time to think.”

Archibald nodded again. “Certainly. I realise this comes completely out of the blue for you, Vex’ahlia.” He shot Percy a disapproving glace that made the Sophist of Native Ingenuity cringe. “It should have been brought to your attention sooner, and in a better way.”

Vex nodded and left, ignoring Percy’s half-raised hand. When she’d left the room, Cassandra and Archibald both looked at the tinkerer. The old man sighed, and creakily got up from his chair.

“We apparently need to have a lengthy discussion on the nature of task responsibility and follow-through, Percival. I realise you didn’t have the opportunity or, indeed, the interest in studying these things in the same detail as your older siblings, but one could hope that at least a smidgeon of common sense would have settled in that busy brain of yours.”

Percy winced.

 

****************

 

“I think it sounds interesting, you know, rustic townsfolk, quaint traditions. They’ll probably have folk dancing!” Taryon rubbed his hands together excitedly, making a small cloud of flour settle all over the pie dough he was preparing.

Vex stopped decorating the cupcakes again for what was probably the fifth time this afternoon. She had a hard time focusing. Midsummer was only a week away, and she hadn’t given Archibald and Cassandra (and Percy) a definitive answer yet. She fiddled with a small lavender sugar paste flower, turning it to a lumpy ball.

“I don’t know… everybody sounds so serious about it. Like it’s tied into the security of the city.” She sighed and threw the lump away, taking another from a tray and carefully put it among the others on top of the cupcake’s frosting.

“Pha. They’re just superstitious,” Tary said with a grandiose wave of his hand. “You probably just have to go out and shoot a deer or something, and when you bring it back they’ll, I don’t know, smear some blood on you. These backwoods celebrations are always more story than substance.”

She gave him the side-eye. “And you’ve attended a lot of these ‘backwood celebrations’, have you?“

He started to answer, then shut his mouth. He gave the ball of dough a few half-hearted pats.

“Look, LEG,” he said, slightly less pompous this time, “If you don’t want to do it, of course you shouldn’t do it. But I really don’t think you have anything to worry about.” He wavered a bit. ”And... you know, if there _should_ be any strange goings-on, you always have me at your back.”

She laughed and caressed his cheek. “I know, Goldie. And I appreciate it.”

He beamed at her. “So, you go out and enjoy yourself. Do some hunting. Meanwhile, I’ll be drinking hard apple cider and learning the Whitestone twirlaround!”

Vex laughed. “The what now?”

He waved a hand again. “Oh, whatever they call the local folk dance.” He plopped the dough into a pie pan and started to inexpertly mould it to the sides.

 

*************

 

Later that evening, Vex went up to Percy’s study. He was sitting bent over his desk, deep in thought, reading a book and making notes. She stood in the door for a moment and studied him before she went in.

“I’ve decided. I’ll be the Hunter again.”

Percy gave a sigh of relief. He pulled off his glasses and pushed away from his desk to stretch out. The desk was laden with books and pieces of paper – some half-scribbled on, some scrunched up in balls or torn up. He was evidently working hard on whatever it was.

“I’m- thank you, Vex. I know that this has been a hard decision, and I’ m very grateful. And… I, uh, I apologise. For being so secretive, and for being so… slow.”

“Apology accepted. But I don’t really get why it took you so long, darling. I know talking about Whitestone is hard for you, sometimes, but you weren’t this, well, nervous the last time.”

Percy rubbed his eyes and stood up, grabbing a few scrunched up papers. He went over to the mantlepiece and tossed the sheets into the small fire. He stood there, watching them burn to ash for a good few minutes before answering her.

“Vex?”

“Yes?”

He cleared his throat. “I just want to say… you are the Hunter. The Grand Mistress. What you do, how you do it… it’s none of my business. You’re protecting Whitestone, that’s all that matters.”

Vex looked at him curiously. He was doing that thing where he was stone-faced and stoic, but by now she had learned to read him. The light tremble in his hands, the slight twitch in his lips…

“Are you… you’re jealous? Is that what this is about? That’s why it took you such a long time to talk about it.” She stepped closer and laid a hand on his shoulder.

He closed his eyes for a second and sighed. “I’m really trying not to be, Vex. I… I love you. And I’m trying very hard not to be possessive.”

“I love you too. But you’re stupid.” She leaned her forehead against his. “You place way too much importance on this.”

“This _is_ important to me, Vex. Whether I like it or not, Whitestone is my responsibility now, and I-“

She put a hand up to his lips to stop him. “Not only yours. It’s Cassandra’s, and mine, and Archie’s, and the rest of the council’s, and the rest of the town for that matter.” She moved her hand to gently lift his chin up so that his eyes met hers. “But that wasn’t what I meant. I meant that you put too much importance on sex.”

He smiled, his face much more boyish than usual. “Well. Well, it’s.. you are… you are the first woman that… that mattered to me in, uh, in that regard.”

“I know.” She hugged him. “I get how you feel. We’ve both lost a lot. It’s… hard to let go of things when you finally have them. Believe me, I know. But I’ve learned… we must trust that things don’t immediately disappear when we let go.”

She went over to the desk and picked up his glasses. They were not as good as the ones Grog had so cleverly “traded” him for, but he made do. She brought them over to him and put them on his nose, adjusting the lenses. Then she kissed him, a long, gentle kiss.

“You have me. My heart is yours. If I have sex with someone else, it won’t change that you have me, and I have you.” She took his head between her hands and locked eyes with him. “I’m going to do this. I’ll do it because it’s my job. I’m a ranger. If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s hunt and track. And I am Mistress of the Grey Hunt, tasked with protecting Whitestone… which is mine now. It’s my home. Mine and yours. And I’m going to protect it like a wolf protects her cubs.”

She let go and gave his glasses a last adjust. He laughed and took them off, polishing them with a practiced flourish before putting them on again the right way. She smiled and kissed him again, quick and teasing this time.

“I’m going to sleep. It’s been a looong day at the bakery. Oh, on that note, could you please tell the staff that I really, really don’t want cupcakes with our breakfast for a while?”

He nodded and went back to the desk with its load of paperwork. She turned to leave for their rooms but stopped in the door and looked at him again.

“It’s hard to share power, and it’s hard to share people. And, my Lord of Whitestone, it honours you that you want to learn how to. I’m happy that you’re trying. I think you need it.” She blew him a kiss and left.

He sat for a while, looking at the door, before returning to his papers.

 

****************

 

Vex entered the large tent that had been erected in the Sun Tree square. The inside was muggy and warm after the long day summer day. A couple of bluebottles were buzzing around the tops of the tent poles, probably drawn there by the enticing scent of badly tanned animal skin. Percy stood beneath the highest part of the canvas ceiling, adjusting a large, hairy headdress crowned with antlers. They were moose, not deer, far larger than the ones Keyleth usually wore and looked unwieldy, but impressive. He was bare chested, clad only in a loose-fitting kilt of soft leather. On his arms, legs and around his neck hung several necklaces, bracelets and armbands, the finest of which was a bronze torque studded with a multitude of small, golden animals.

“Percy?” She had to stifle a chuckle. He looked like some kind of ancient shaman, far from his usual civilised poise. His intricate glasses clashed with the rest of the attire, but his many scars blended right in.

“I’m feeling silly enough already, dear, please don’t ogle me.” He gave the headdress a final shove and managed to get it balanced at last.

“You’re feeling silly, brother? Think about how I feel.”

Cassandra entered the tent, dressed in much the same manner as Percy. She bore it much better, however; her regal, haughty bearing melded well with the headdress and the rough jewellery. Like Percy, she was naked from the waist up, and Vex felt a bit weird about where to place her gaze. She settled on the headdress. That felt safe until she noticed that it was made from a whole bear skull, with the pelt falling like a cloak behind Cass. Vex shuddered.

“Are you quite ready, Percival?”, Cassandra said. “You’re the one we’re waiting for.”

“Yes, yes… Let me just… I need to make sure I have all my things-“ Percy tried to hold the headdress in place with one hand as he rummaged around in a bag with the other.

Cassandra sighed. “We’re as ready as we’ll ever be, brother. Luckily for us, a lot of the people in that crowd are too young to have participated in this ritual before, and the rest will likely have forgotten much of what happened last time. I think we have some leeway for mistakes.”

She turned and held the tent flaps open for Percy and Vex. Percy gathered up a large package, wrapped in cloth, and squared his shoulders. Vex laid a hand on his neck, and he leaned back into it for a second before he followed Cass out.

Outside, Archibald was waiting. Vex had to stifle a gasp – the old man was wearing a cloak of feathers, snowy white and slate grey, that cascaded down his back and covered his shoulders and most of his torso. That and what must be the skull of a baby roc affixed to his head made him look like an old owl, and she couldn’t think of a more proper outfit for him. Archibald smiled and took her hand, leading her to the side of the dais that had been erected in the plaza.

They stood beneath the Sun Tree, the low sun shining through the branches. The light was…

The light was creeping her out, honestly. Vex had never experienced a midnight sun before, and she hadn’t anticipated that it would feel so… wrong. Her body was giving her all sorts of mixed signals, her internal clock completely out of sync. On one hand, it was telling her that it was night – the feel of the breeze, the smells, they felt like early night time. But the sounds, the light, was afternoon. The result was like a whole-body itch, a profound sense of weirdness.

She shuddered and looked out over the crowd. Most of the people gathered in the square were dressed in a similar fashion to Percy and Cassandra – simple, easy to remove clothing, furs, jewellery and fresh flowers. Vex could even see a couple of people that were completely naked, bodies adorned with swirls and stripes of blue paint. She could see people of all shapes and sizes, but she noticed there was a complete absence of children – the youngest people in the crowd seemed to be young adults. Most everybody she could see looked expectant and happy.

Percy and Cassandra had stepped up on the platform and were now standing side by side. Percy was carefully unwrapping the large package he had brought from the tent. Vex could see it clearly now – it was an old tome, its leather cover scratched and ripped and even charred in places. It had probably sustained some damages during the Briarwood years. As Percy opened it she could see that it was crammed full with tacked-on scraps of paper and loose pages. Percy darted between the pieces of text, apparently trying to present a cohesive narrative from the piecemeal lore he had managed to amass. He cleared his throat and began to address the crowd.

“Denizens of Whitestone. Tonight, on this, the longest of nights, the sun does not set. The presence of mighty Pelor, the Dawnfather, is strong. Tonight, Whitestone has the blessing of the Sun. Those who hide in the night cannot escape. This night, the Mistress of the Grey Hunt will pursue and subdue the beast that lives in the Parchwood, so that Whitestone can remain strong, our claim on this land unbroken and strong.“

He glanced at Vex and cleared his throat again.

“But remember, Whitestone. This is the time of dualities. It is night, and the sun still shines. We are people, and we are animals. This is a city, and it is wild. Of all nights, this is the one for remembering and honouring or ties to the world, so I bid you, take joy in the gifts that the Gods have granted us!”

Percy stopped talking, carefully closed the book and took a step back as the crowd cheered and clapped. Archibald put a gentle hand on Vex’s back and motioned her forward. She stepped up on the dais. Two women stepped up from the other side – Vex recognised one of them as one of Keeper Yennen’s adepts; the other was familiar but not instantly recognisable to her. She turned towards the crowd. The two women began to gently remove her clothes, folding and putting them away in a corner of the dais. Vex felt weird, but the whole situation was so suffused with ritualistic reverence that it was less about the being naked and more about the being the centre of attention.

Archibald stepped up, carrying a bowl. Vex could see that it was filled with a thick, blue liquid. He murmured something to one of the women. She nodded, dipped her hands into the wode-blue paint and started to put careful handprints on Vex’s legs, back and stomach. The other pulled Vex’s long hair back and gathered it into a low ponytail. The woman with the paint (was she from the bathhouse maybe?) lifted one hand to Vex’s face and shot a quick glance to Archibald, who leaned down and whispered to her again. She started painting some sort of symbols on Vex’s face – whatever they were they seemed to contain more swirls than lines.

When they were done with the paint, the two women and Archibald stepped down from the platform. In their stead, Cassandra came up with a bundle of furs and leather. As she shook them out, Vex could see that it was an entire wolf pelt and one of the leather kilts that Cass and Percy was wearing. Vex stared at the pelt, then over at Percy. He gave her a satisfied smirk.

Cassandra fastened the skirt around her waist, then arranged the wolf pelt on her head, securing it with strips of leather. When she was done, Vex felt odd – a bit embarrassed, like she was dressed up in some sort of carnival clothing, but also happy that she now melded with the rest of the crowd.

Archibald gave her a little wave, and she stepped down, coming eye to eye with Keeper Yennen. The Keeper was dressed formally in the robes of a priest of Pelor – oddly covered and civilised in this wild and tribal crowd. The Keeper took the blue paint from Archibald and painted a stylised rising sun on her chest – the only place that was yet to be covered in dark blue symbols. When done, he put his hands on her head and said a short prayer. Lastly, he held out Fenthras and her quiver. She took them gratefully. The familiar weight of the bow was at least a little bit reassuring.

“Pelor’s blessing be with you, Mistress.” Yennen smiled at her and nodded.

Vex started to feel nervous. She bent closer to Yennen. “Look, Keeper,” she hissed. “Do you have any, I don’t know, last tips? I’m feeling a bit out of my depth here.”

Keeper Yennen put a reassuringly steady hand on her shoulder. “The blessings of the gods are with you this night, Lady Vex’ahlia. The blessings of Pelor, but also of Erathis, she of woven stone and strong foundations. Trust in their guidance.”

“But I haven’t been given any guidance yet!” she whispered.

He smiled again. “There is a pattern. There is a trail. The gods will guide you. You managed to complete your first task – there is no reason to think you wouldn’t do well on this one.”

Vex could think of a number of reasons, but at this point Yennen let go of her with a pat. She hefted her quiver and tightened her grip on Fenthras. Right. She rolled her shoulders back, sighed, and started walking. The crowd parted for her. Hands reached out to touch her, gently, reverentially. Soft murmurs followed her. “Blessings, Hunter.” “Gods walk with you, Hunter.” “Sun’s strength, Hunter.”

 

**************

 

As she walked through the city gates, what little courage she had been able to muster was rapidly leaving Vex. Where was she supposed to go? Where was this creature she was hunting? The Parchwood forest was huge! At least she’d had some kind of idea where to go when she was hunting the Grey Render. This time she didn’t have the faintest of notions. She sighed and started walking again, choosing a direction at random.

After she’d walked a few minutes she started feeling tired and dejected. Why couldn’t Percy and Archibald have found out something more? Anything? Anything would be better than this random nonsense! She shook her head and changed direction and started walking again, only to stop, irritated. What was the point of walking _anywhere_? This was stupid!

With an exasperated sigh she threw her bow and arrows to the ground and sat down on her heels. Bloody rituals, bloody city, bloody Percy for giving her this bloody job, bloody her for taking it. She jumped up and walked around in a rapid circle in pure frustration.

Suddenly, the irritation lifted. It was instantaneous, like pulling off a thick blanket that had been thrown over your head and suddenly seeing blazing sunlight. Instead she felt…

… there was a, not a tugging, but a pleasant feeling, like looking straight into a gentle breeze on a warm day or feeling the sun on your forehead in the morning. Turning her body _this_ way, rather than any of the other directions, just felt comfortable, it felt _right_. It faded as she turned towards the city, and the feeling of irritation and frustration returned. When she turned back, the sense of rightness, of direction, welled up again. Vex grinned madly. The guidance of the gods indeed. Well, it wasn’t a vision, but it would have to do. She snatched up her gear and set off running.

She kept moving in the direction of the feeling, sensing clearly when she veered of the path. The off-putting light illuminated the forest. She crouched down and looked at the ground. She sniffed the air.

There was something here. Something had crossed here…

Something felt wrong, even more wrong than the unnatural sunlight. Something… something about the sounds in this place. She moved her head, cocked it to one side and listened. Now that she concentrated on it, it wasn’t hard to pick up.

There were no noises. None at all. The forest was completely silent.

Vex shuddered and followed the trail.

She tracked it for what must have been an hour. She could see indents in the moss, a bit of freshly turned earth, a few stray leaves ripped from a branch. She was getting closer. Suddenly she heard something – the snapping of a branch. She stopped and listened, breathing slowly, quietly. There was a clearing up ahead. Standing completely still, she could see the shape of something large, moving slowly. There was a glimpse of horns. She crept up, taking care not to step on twigs or snagging her bow on any low branches. Yes, some sort of horned animal – huge, at least as large as a moose, but with the branched horns of a red deer. She quietly pulled an arrow from the quiver and notched it.

Vex slowly walked out into the clearing, raising her bow. As she moved closer, she got a clearer look at the animal. Vex had hunted wild deer many times, but this one was different. To begin with, she couldn’t figure out its sex – it had characteristics that spoke of all and none simultaneously. And it was indeed much larger than any deer she’s seen before. It looked right at her, without any fear. She could smell its musky scent – animal-like, sure, but mingled with other smells as well.

The deer slowly walked towards her. Vex lifted Fenthras, arrow notched and ready…

 

_This is wrong. This is not the way it is supposed to go._

 

She stopped, confused. The feeling, the sense of _rightness_ , of _direction_ , was gone. Vex lowered the bow, releasing the tension of the string. The feeling returned, slowly. She gently put Fenthras down in the spongy moss beside her. The feeling grew stronger. She shrugged off the quiver, laid it beside the bow, and took a cautious step towards the animal.

Yes. This felt right.

She looked at the animal. It was magnificent, its coat sleek and shiny, without burrs or mud. It shook its huge head and took a step towards her. She could see muscles moving beneath the skin like slow snakes. It was looking at her intently, purposefully. Its eyes were jet black – no, not black; like patches of the night time sky, like the void between stars. It called to her, drew her in, questioning, wanting, full of intent.

“What is it? What do you want from me?” Her voice rang loudly in the silence, and she winced.

The animal made no sound, instead, it took another step towards her, then another. Vex held her ground. As it walked closer, it seemed to melt, warp, change; and at the same time, stay the same. The form of the deer remained, but [overlapped/coexisted/concurred] with a humanoid form, just as indeterminate and hard to pin down as the animal. The two figures seemed to exist simultaneously, creating a third. It was disconcerting, and her eyes kept trying to refocus to see just one of the shapes, not accepting what they were seeing. The only unchanging features of the entity was its horns and eyes.

Vex crouched down in a defensive position. The horned figure extended a [hoof/hand] towards her. Vex recoiled and moved to dodge it, but the figure moved much faster than she had anticipated, and the [hoof/hand] met her raised one. Having it this close, the smell was overwhelming. It smelled like earth and mould and stagnant ponds; like musk and wet fur and old blood. The feel of the [hard hoof/soft palm] against hers was like seeing the midnight sun for the first time – disconcerting, unnatural, wrong.

 

_This is right. Now start it._

 

Vex thought of what Cassandra had said. Hunt. Defeat. Subdue. Calm.

Not kill.

She made a decision. Moving with practiced speed, she gripped the [forelegs/arms] of the horned figure and slammed her forehead into its [muzzle/mouth]. She could hear something cracking, and crimson blood spurted from its nostrils. It recoiled, shaking its head, splattering droplets of blood on the forest floor. Then, it reared up and charged her. Vex dug her feet into the soft ground and squared up for its assault.

They grappled, kicking up moss and black earth. The creature was strong and sinewy, gripping her like one of Keyleth’s Gasping Vines. It was damned hard to hold off, but she used every dirty trick a lifetime of hard knocks had given her. She rammed an elbow into its side, shoving it away and breaking its grip. They circled, looking for openings. Vex feinted to the left, then jumped around it and gave it a hard right in the kidneys. It whirled back and threw one long [hindleg/leg] out, kicking her hard in the stomach. She coughed and gagged as it threw its huge body on top of her, knocking her to the ground.

Its [hoofs/hands] clawed and scraped her shoulders as it held her down, trying to reach her throat with its teeth. Its hot blood dripped into her face. She wrenched one arm free and got a tight grip on one ear, twisting it away. Then, she rammed her knee up, catching it between the [hindquarters/legs], not enough of a bullseye to incapacitate but enough to make it roll off her and ball up in pain. She scrabbled up and jumped on top of it, trying to pin it to the ground. The [deer/human] writhed beneath her, tossing its head up and back, hitting the side of her head hard. She could feel the skin breaking and blood beginning to trickle down her temple. She shook her head, dizzy from the impact, and the thing threw her off, making her roll away. Vex jumped up and wiped blood from her eyes.

 “You fucking bastard!”

Fury exploded behind her eyes. The world took on a rosy tint, and she could feel her pulse racing. Screaming incoherently, she ran straight at it. Quick as a striking adder it threw its head up, meeting her wild onslaught. It hit her squarely in the stomach with its antlers and nocked the wind out of her again. As she lay panting on the ground, it charged her, no doubt to finish the job by trampling her. She curled up, legs poised to kick, and when it was on her, she planted her feet on its chest and heaved it up and over her head. As it crashed to the ground she whirled up and was on it in a second.

She was straddling it, hands around its throat, squeezing. Its [hoofs/hands] were scrabbling at her arms, leaving bloody scratches, but couldn’t manage to break her grip. She squeezed harder, but it just doubled its efforts to throw her off. She could feel the anger rising like a wave. How dared it? How dared it, she was the stronger!

“Yield, damn you!”

She released her grip, raised her fist and backhanded it across the temple. The blow made her knuckles ache, and made a resounding crack. The creature shuddered and fell still.

The horned figure was panting beneath her. She could still feel the blood pounding in her ears, the fury burning beneath her skin. Was this what Grog felt like when he was raging? No wonder he never hesitated to. It was exhilarating. She felt like she could fight forever, take on a whole forest full of these things. She looked down at the [deer/human], its eyes cast aside in defeat, its wide chest moving with each exhausted breath.

 

_This is right. But it is not finished._

 

The [deer/human] moved beneath her again. This time the movement was sinuous, suggestive. She could feel [the rough fur/the smooth skin] against hers. The horned figure moved slowly, rubbing up against the inside of her thighs. Now, in defeat, it was decidedly more humanoid than animal. Its void-black eyes met hers, full of that same intent and purpose as before. One hand rose slowly, almost shyly, to touch one of her breasts.

Hunt. Defeat. Master. Subdue. Calm.

However you choose to do that…

Again, she made a decision. On hand still tight around its throat, she bent down and kissed it. It responded in kind, locking them in a wild, rough embrace. It tasted of blood and peat and smoke. Its hands were around her, pulling her down. She ground against it, its hips rising to meet hers. They rutted against each other, searching and finding places that made the other yelp and moan. Its long tongue licked her nipples, circling them, sucking them in and biting down, not gently, but not hard enough to harm. She ground her teeth and buried her hands in the fur over its sides, pulling and stroking. Its teeth left red stripes on her shoulder.

This was unlike any sex she had ever experienced – even as they gave in to pleasure they were tense, posturing; each move calculated. This was no mere mindless rut – it was a dance, a contest, just as much a struggle for dominance as their earlier fight had been. The thing gripped one of her hands and placed it on its crotch, a clear gesture of invitation. In truth, Vex didn’t need much encouragement any more – the entity was egging her on with its scent, its touch, its mere existence. And she wanted, needed, to master it, to take it, mark it as hers, her prey, her price.

As much as she wanted to, it was hard to gauge the ins and outs of its alien physique, while it seemed to have ample knowledge of the workings of humanoid bodies. Slowly, it was bending her on her back, gliding down, trailing clawed fingers and tongue along her body until its head was buried between her legs. Its tongue was hot and rough, flicking, lapping, tasting her. She bit her lip, squirming, moving closer, closer…

_No, fuck- the hunt-_

Vex snapped her head up. “Foul play, you antlered asshole,” she muttered. She gripped its horns and pulled its head from her crotch, forcing it to face her again. It grinned and licked its lips. She smirked and put her hands on its chest, pushing it on its back, forcing it down until it was prone and she kneeling between its legs. It seemed to enjoy her rough play, and lifted its hips towards her. She felt it again, the exhilaration, the thrill of the hunt – a goal struck, a trophy taken. She was its master, it was giving in to her entirely. This, more than pleasuring it and feeling its every jerking movement, made her ache with sexual frustration.

It was panting, its claws digging grooves in the dirt as it writhed in her grip. She held it tight and flexed her fingers, stroking it in its most sensitive spots again and again until she finally drove it over the edge. The thing bucked and tensed. She could feel its muscles tightening around her hand as it climaxed, smearing its stomach and hers with warm liquid. Now, finally, it made a sound; a low cry, before it folded and fell to the ground.

The thing lay at her feet, panting, its eyes closed. Then, suddenly, it stood up and shook itself off. It humanoid form once again blended with the animal, mixing, changing, merging, until only the deer was left. With a toss of its horned head, it galloped into the forest.

Dazed, Vex sat back on her heels. She was bruised and bloodied, covered in dirt and leaves, smeared with bright crimson and sticky white, and was hornier than she had ever been in her whole life. She snatched Fenthras and the quiver from their resting place in the moss, hauled herself to her feet and started running.

 

***********

 

As she entered Whitestone and came closer to the plaza, she could hear the sound of a celebration. Laughter, song, shouts, the sound of clinking glass and stomping feet. When she entered the square, an old man, just done tapping a keg of ale, looked up and gave a drunken holler. “She’s back! The Grand Mistress is back!” A crowd of people immediately fell upon her, shouting blessings and congratulations.

“The Hunter! The Hunter returns!”

“Blessings upon you, Mistress!”

“Champion of the Sun!”

Hands touched her, grasped her arms, pulling her close. A young woman, a crown of oak leaves in her short hair, laughed drunkenly and kissed her full on the lips. Her mouth tasted like dark ale and raisins. Vex kissed her deeply, hungrily, until another hand tugged her away. The woman broke off, giggling, and was whirled away in the crowd. Vex found herself face-to-face with a person with long hair, braided with strands of ivy. They offered her a cup, and she realised how thirsty she was. She took the offered cup and drank deeply. It was some kind of fermented fruit juice, a mix between apples and grapes, sweet and sour. As she drank, the person drew close, running their dark hands over her hips. Vex finished the cup and let it fall to the ground. The person drew her into a tight embrace, their hot breath on her neck. Vex moved against them in a dance as slow as the breathing of the forest. Finally, the person gently broke off and, with a smile, steered her towards the Sun Tree.

She turned around, and found herself face to face with Taryon. His clothes where askew, his normally so finely coiffed hair was tousled, and he had a goblet in one hand. A muscular older man with a beard and long, straight, brown hair currently had his arms wrapped around Tary’s middle. She vaguely remembered having seen him in the castle smithy at some point – right now he was seemingly doing his best to cover every inch of Tary’s shoulders with kisses. As the man saw Vex, he broke off and gave a joyous cry.

“Hail, my lady! Hail to the victorious Hunter!” He hugged Vex hard and hoisted her up, a warm, familial embrace. Vex laughed and hugged the man back. He put her down and gave her a rough pat on the back. She looked at Tary. He looked drunk, confused, happy and profoundly embarrassed at the same time.

“Don’t let me interrupt you,” she chuckled and pushed the man back towards Tary. “I think you were showing him how to do the Whitestone twirlaround?”

The man laughed and put his arms around Tary again, this embrace much more purposeful and suggestive. As the crowds parted them, she could see Tary resting his forehead on the man’s chest.

She moved through the crowd, meetings and partings coming and going like waves, but always steering her inwards towards the Sun Tree. The air was filled with shouts of joy and gasps of pleasure, a stark contrast to the complete silence of the forest. She could glimpse familiar faces in the crowd – palace staff, one of Cassandra’s personal guards, Shauna from the Tipsy Coral, that person who always ordered a bag of almond cookies at the Slayer’s Cake at the start of the week. She saw Jarett, laughing in a gaggle of people. Trish the Dish, against a wall, one leg up over the shoulder of the man kneeling between her legs. Suddenly, she found herself underneath the Sun Tree, by the tent where she had started. The crowds were thinner here, and she could move unhindered.

Percy stood there, regal and straight-backed, eyes determinedly fixed on a point not filled with celebrating people. His cheeks were blazing. She couldn’t see Cassandra – she might already be somewhere out in the crowd, or might have left entirely. Wherever she was, Vex hoped that she was happy. She strode up to Percy and grabbed the sides of his headdress, drawing him into a fierce kiss. It seemed to go on forever, but finally they broke off, panting for breath. Percy adjusted the horns that were threatening to fall off entirely and taking his glasses with them.

“I- I assume things went well, then?”

She gripped his shoulders and pushed him up against the tree, grinding her knee up between his legs. He gasped, the headdress finally falling to the ground, forgotten in the moment. Vex kissed him again and he responded in kind, running his hands over her naked back and sides. Vex broke off again and looked at him.

“Fuck me.”

His cheeks turned an even warmer shade of crimson. “What, now? Here?”

“Yes, now. Here. Can you think of a better time and place?”

He stared at her, then let his eyes sweep over the plaza again. The denizens of Whitestone were completely caught up a in a bacchanalian celebration, paying no mind to their embarrassed ruler. He looked back at Vex.

_This is right. But it is not finished._

 

He laughed. “Old magic.”

She kissed him again as she pushed him down on the ground beneath the tree. All over Whitestone, the celebration continued, and would continue long past the true dawn, signifying the continuation of the unending turning of the seasons.


End file.
